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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27753709">megrim</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/littleboxes/pseuds/littleboxes'>littleboxes</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>jatp tumblr fills [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Julie and The Phantoms (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alive!Luke, Fluff, Gen, Headaches &amp; Migraines, Sickfic, luke has a migraine, that's it that's the fic</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 21:02:24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,197</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27753709</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/littleboxes/pseuds/littleboxes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff"><p>tumblr is @reggiesnecklace</p></div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Julie Molina &amp; Luke Patterson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>jatp tumblr fills [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1988869</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>88</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>megrim</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Luke’s head is bothering him again. It’s been long enough that he can admit it, at least, but the problem is there are four more hours in the day and he didn’t take an aleve because he was half asleep and not willing to admit defeat because obviously, if he didn’t acknowledge the migraine, it would go away. </p><p>Luke is very good at making responsible, young adult decisions. Just not when he’s half asleep. He swears. </p><p>But anyway. Four more hours in the day, and his head is pounding. He catches Julie’s eye as he looks anywhere but the bright, white walls of the classroom and she smiles. He smiles back just as bright because, I mean, it’s <em>Julie</em>, and then a second later the consequences of moving his face slam into him like bricks and he bites his lip. <em>Ow</em>. </p><p>He sits through algebra clenching his jaw tighter and tighter and eventually gives up on pretending to listen. He doesn’t start doodling like he normally would- if he stares at the paper for too long the ink will start swimming around, and honestly his head is empty of anything but pain right now. </p><p>Thankfully Mrs Mennir has had him for long enough that she doesn’t even bother calling him out when he lays his head in his hands. The coolness of his desk and the darkness help, but it’s a bad one today, the pain follows his temples around to the back of his head and down to his neck. </p><p>When the bell rings, he doesn’t even have the energy to flinch, and he doesn’t try to meet Julie at the door. He’s too busy trying to hide from the light and noise of the hallways behind his hair to see Julie’s concerned frown as he slouches out of the room. </p><p>The next four hours are, to put it lightly, hellish. He sways for about three indecisive seconds in the doorway of chemistry classroom before deciding that trying to do chemical things today- as the words LAB DAY written in red on the white board would seem to imply- is a terrible idea. He turns around and hides in the bathroom, and isn’t able to convince himself to leave for english, either. It’s one of his favorite classes, normally, because Mr Scott is a big fan of his lyric-writing and would occasionally help him out when he’d get stuck on the phrasing of stuff; granted, that was before Julie. </p><p>He drags himself into computer programming and drifts, too tired to focus and in too much pain to actually fall asleep, for the next hour. Thankfully the last bell rings (<em>ow ow ow ow</em>) and he can leave, with absolutely no idea what they did today. </p><p>He’s hovering at his locker, trying to decide if it’s worth the risk of trying to ride his bike right now in order to get home faster, when Julie walks up. </p><p>“Hey, I was waiting by the south entrance for you, but you didn’t show up? My dad’s here.”</p><p>Luke blinks at her for a second, before he remembers. They were gonna have a song writing session after school today, and Ray offered to bring him home afterwards. Right. </p><p>He gives Julie a smile and hopes it comes out normal. </p><p>“Right! Yeah, sorry, I just forgot...” he reaches blindly into his locker for something, “this!”</p><p>His science textbook from last year that he definitely was supposed to return but forgot about dangles limply from his hand, and he smiles winningly at Julie. </p><p>She stares at him, unimpressed. </p><p>“<em>Rightttt</em>. I know Mr Jackson was just <em>soooo</em> desperate to get it back. You’re being weird, and we’re definitely gonna talk about it. Come on, we’re gonna be late to pick up Carlos.”</p><p>Luke shoves the textbook back into his locker and slams it (gently) shut, and before turning to walk with her. </p><p>He flips the hood of his jacket up and pulls it over his eyes as much as he can, but it still doesn't block out that much light. He blinks slowly, trying to cling to that darkness while not walking into other people, or lockers, or Julie. </p><p>“...get step three? Hello? Luke home?”</p><p>He blinks at Julie. “What-? Sorry, I just-”</p><p>“Luke? Are you okay? You’ve been weird since algebra. If you don’t wanna write today, we can always reschedule...”</p><p>“No! No, I’m fine, just a little headache, no big deal. What were you saying?”</p><p>She gives him a look but he gives her a thumb’s up, so she continues, and he makes himself focus on her voice. </p><p>Thankfully, the car ride to the Molina house is filled with Carlos’ chattering responses to Ray’s gentle questioning about his day, and Luke doesn’t have to say anything. They head up to Julie’s room as soon as they arrive, and Ray calls up he’ll bring up some snacks in a half hour. </p><p>He sets his bag on the ground and plops into the beanbag. </p><p>It’s soft, and the room is only lit by the natural light let in through the window, and he could almost just pass out right here, honestly...</p><p>“Okay, seriously, if you don’t want to write today, we don’t have to, Luke, you just have to <em>tell me</em>,” Julie says, and there’s hurt alongside the upset in her eyes. </p><p>“Wh- Julie, no, I- I’m sorry,” he says, running a hand down his face. </p><p>“Sometimes, I get these migraines? Usually it’s fine if I catch it before school but I didn’t today, and I <em>do</em> want to write with you but I’m pretty sure if I look at words right now I’ll throw up? Sorry...”</p><p>Julie stares at him for a second before throwing up her hands. </p><p>“Why didn’t you just <em>say that</em>? Flynn gets stress migraines sometimes, I have just the thing- wait here.”</p><p>Before Luke can say anything, she disappears downstairs, and he’s left sprawled in the beanbag. It’s a few minutes later when she comes back up, arms full of black sheets and some other things he can’t make out. </p><p>She clips them up over the window, and then in a circle around the tiny touch in the corner. She motions for him to move over, so he does. </p><p>“I let dad know you’re not feeling well and he called your mom so you’re good to just pass out. <em>But</em>, before you do that, here, and here,” she says, handing him a few aleve and a bottle of water. </p><p>“Jules- <em>thanks</em>,” he says, taking them and unscrewing the water. </p><p>She just laughs. “I <em>also</em> texted Reggie and let him know I have an afternoon free for us to work on his next country hit, so this is honestly a win for me.”</p><p>“Julie, we’re <em>not</em> making a country album,” he says, leaning further into the small, dark tent she’s created, “and you <em>know</em> I’m in a weakened state and can’t fight back.”</p><p>She grins. “Sleep now, because you’ll never rest again until you’re <em>begging </em>us to produce Home Is Where My Horse Is,” she says, unclipping the last sheet so he’s left alone in a tiny bubble of darkness. </p><p>He sighs, leans back, and lets oblivion take him.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>tumblr is @reggiesnecklace</p></blockquote></div></div>
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